Mansion upon the sand
by MilaDance
Summary: Dan and Blair. After the wedding is called off, she needs a friend. And she will always have him.
1. Chapter 1

Mansion upon the sand

"All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand." _-__Ella__Wheeler__Wilcox_

"Pick me up, at mine. Right now. With a car!"

He stands there and nods like an idiot, confused, bemused, surprised. He only got half a hello ("hel") in before she barked her orders and then hung up. Never mind that they hadn't spoken in over two months, since the book debacle actually, never mind that she was supposed to be in Monaco or at the very least on her way to Monaco seeing as her wedding is, like, the day after tomorrow. Never mind that her last words to him prior to this phone call had been some rather pointed insult. He could ignore her, could do what he had planned to do today, which is hanging around the loft drinking coffee and maybe talking to his dad on the phone. Pretend to write an essay for his lit class. He grabs his coat as he thinks of all his plans for today, or lack thereof, then his keys and wallet and goes down to grab a cab to get to his dad and Lily's place, get the car and drive to hers, hating himself for being such a lacquey and hating the traffic in New York for being so slow.

She is sitting on the little bench in her foyer, a suitcase by her feet, her coat folded in her lap, a beret carefully arranged to be askew on her head, looking like a French school girl waiting for the train to boarding school. The elevator ping makes her look up, see him and she rolls her eyes, stands up and scoffs "Did you crawl here? Over an hour! Let's go!". She walks into the elevator, and he grabs her suitcase that she left there, clearly for him to carry, and follows her. On second glance she does not really look like a French school girl at all. There are deep shadows under her eyes, which are puffy and red rimmed, like someone who has cried and tried to hide the evidence. And he can't help but notice that her belly, though hidden under the flowy dress, has rounded considerably since he last saw her. Not to a balloon or anything, she can't be more than 4 months along… or maybe 5, but to a little bump. They ride down in complete silence and only once they are sitting in his father's little car he speaks up. "Where are we going?"

"Suriname? Fiji? Anywhere far, far away from here." He looks confused and is going to crack a joke about the car and its very questionable capacity of getting them to Suriname, but her stern face stops him in his tracks. "Ok, stop looking so stupid, Humphrey, it was merely an expression of how desperately I need to get away from here. How about Amagansett? Is the house there still empty?" He nods, checks on his key ring to make sure Cece's spare set is still attached and starts to slowly inch forward on the busy Manhattan streets. She is looking out of the window, lost in thought, and he concentrates on driving. And on wondering. What on earth happened?

They hit the freeway and he can't keep it in longer: "What happened? You were supposed to get married on Saturday!" It takes her so long to look at him that he starts to wonder if he said that out loud. "Yes, Humphrey, I _know_ that. But you messed it all up, so now I need you to take me somewhere where Louis can't find me, or Chuck, or the paparazzi. Or my mom."

"How could I have messed it up, I haven't seen in you in weeks… hell, months! I haven't spoken to Louis or Chuck… or your mom." He shakes his head, he knows that she loves to make him feel like she is worse off for having him in her life, but blaming him for her fleeing her fiancé, mother and ex a mere 48 hours before her royal wedding is a bit much. "Your book, Humphrey, your book, it messed it all up and it keeps doing that." And with that she turns back to the window signaling that she is done with this conversation. Dan is not though but he knows he better not say anything now, so instead he starts to shape his thoughts into the sentences he will say to her once she willing to listen again.

She fell asleep sometime between Massapequa and Oakdale and hasn't woken up even once since. He parks the car and looks over at her, she looks even smaller in her sleep, sweet and vulnerable, things she rarely lets Dan see when she is awake. In his novel he plagiarized one of his favorite contemporary authors Muriel Barbery and called Blair a hedgehog, prickly on the outside, soft on the inside; in her sleep though she is devoid of any pricks and just herself. He reaches over and softly, carefully tucks a curl of her messy hair behind her ear, leans in close and whispers: "Hey, we are here…" and she opens her eyes wide at once, shies away from his hand and face and then croaks, her voice cracking from sleep: "What are you doing, Humphrey? Trying to give me a heart attack?" Ah, and there they are, the pricks. He sighs, lets himself out, walks around the car and opens the door for her and then goes to get her suitcase, only now wondering how long she might want to stay and how he will survive with just the one pair of underpants and socks.

The house is needlessly huge, especially considering Cece tends to spend her time here alone with one maid. However even if the entire extended Van der Woodsen-Bass-Humphrey clan came to visit there would still be bedrooms left over and bathrooms unused. He carries the increasingly heavier suitcase up and then waits for her to chose a room. "That over there" he points at a door "is my room. Was my room. This summer. Pick one of the other 14." She walks into the room right next to his, the one Eric used this summer, the one that has a communicating door to his room and he leaves the case on the bed, then tells her he will go and get some groceries while she freshens up and she just nods, tiredly. Then once he is at the bottom of the stairs he hears her yell "No fish, no sloppy joes, no waffles! Fruit! And bottled water! Not the one in plastic bottles though." He yells back "Yes, Bwana!" and then just before the door falls shut he hears a final "And chocolate!".

He comes back, unpacks, cooks and while he chops veggies and heats water for the pasta he observes her, sitting on the couch, the TV on but she is not really watching, one hand on her belly. Before the book, before they fell out, they were closer than they had ever been. Friends. Good friends. Best friends even, maybe. He was her confidante and she was… the object of his affection. But the past 2 months a lot had changed, the book and that, well, misunderstanding about poetic license and whatnot, had made her get angry and insulting and him rather embarrassed and then the days started to go by and he thought she would go on reading, realize what he felt and call to talk to him. But she didn't. So either she did not read it, or she did not understand it, or she did not want to talk about it. He doesn't know which one he'd prefer. And he missed her, more so in the beginning, started to write to her, stopped writing to her, considered calling and eventually gave up. It is better this way, he thought, she is about to get married, she is about to have a baby, she is about to leave the country, what is the point of pining after her? And he still pondered if he should go to her wedding or not. She had invited him before it all and just as he was happy with his decision not to go, that phone call. He feels further than ever from her, even though she is sitting there, 10 feet and a kitchen counter away from him. Looking sad and lost. He knows she will share when she is ready and she may never be ready, may always be angry at him, but something doesn't add up. If she is so angry at him, if she blames him and his book for her need to flee from everybody, then why would she want to flee _with_ him? He knows she is in good terms with Serena, so it is not like she has burnt every other bridge, he is not her last resort. He won't ever understand that girl, he thinks and sighs and she doesn't miss a beat and says, without turning around, "Could you breath any louder?"

The meal is as uncomfortable as one could imagine, he tries to make polite small talk (very difficult, when you cannot mention the future, or her fiancé or ex-fiancé or her family, or his book, which is really what his life has been all about lately) and she rolls her eyes a lot and answers snippets here and there. Never more than a few words at a time, never asks anything back. Once it is finished she excuses herself and disappears upstairs and he washes up. When he goes upstairs her door is shut and so he goes into his room, strips down to his t shirt and underpants and crawls into his bed. What is he going to do? How long can he stay with her, hostile as she is? It's not like he has nothing to do back home, he has papers due and classes to attend and helping a friend in need is one thing but being manservant to someone who seems to despise you is something very different. Even if that someone is the girl you have an unexplainable crush on. It is Thursday, he thinks and decides that he will stay here with her until Sunday afternoon and then he is leaving. Unless something changes of course. He turns to the window and looks into the absolute darkness. In New York it is never this dark. There is always some light somewhere, cars driving by throwing shadows across rooms, neighbors have their lights and TVs on. But here it is absolutely pitch black. He can't see anything at all. And there is almost complete silence too. A hoot from an owl every now and then. And then some floorboards creaking. And a door opening and feet on the floorboard making a soft sound, like they are caressing the hardwood. He feels the weight on the far side of the bed when she sits down and turns towards her. Even though he can't see her, he reaches out and finds her knee, leaves his hand on it and waits in silence.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't get married. It didn't feel right. And I couldn't tell him, because he is perfect and he is everything I ever wanted. Until I had him and then I didn't. But I thought that maybe I would learn to want it again." She breathes hard and readjusts herself on the bed, sits closer to him, puts her hand on his. "And your book came out and he was so angry and thought I cheated and then I knew that I couldn't stay with him. Not because he got angry over the fake cheating, but because I still wasn't sorry over the real one. And I kind of hoped that maybe he wouldn't forgive me. But you told him that nothing happened and he believed you. And then suddenly it was like 3 days away and there was no way out, so I left it out. The letter. From the doctor. He must have read it and must have connected the dots because when I came back he was gone and there was a note on the letter saying he could not marry someone he could not trust."

He hears her sniff softly, feels her body shake with a silent sob, and draws a few circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, trying to offer all the comfort she can take right now. He understand that sometimes, even when it feels right, it hurts, because you wished it wasn't right. "I don't know what he wants to do about the baby. I mean it is his, I am sure he wants to see it, but he didn't say anything and I don't… I don't want to talk to him." She moves yet another little bit closer, he can now feel her body heat and smell the faint note of Chanel Nr 5 that seems to be her constant companion. "And Chuck" she sobs harder. "I have never loved anyone like I loved him and I think maybe I never will again… what if I never love like that again, Dan? What if that was my one chance and now I am pregnant and alone and…"

He sits up and she scoots right into his arms, by instinct, because he can't see her at all until she is inches from his face, and sobs against his chest. When she has calmed down somewhat he whispers "You are not alone" into her hair and then sinks back into a lying position, with her still pressed to his side. He listens to her breathing getting more even and feels her body relax against his, one fist still balled up, holding some fabric from the front of his t shirt, holding him close. He adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, feels the foreign curve of her belly against his hip.

"And you will love again." he whispers even more softly, then tucks his chin on the top of her head and with the sweet scent of her fruity shampoo right under his nose, he falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. They absolutely make my day. And no worries, not a one-shot!

Chapter 2

He wakes up because the sun is shining right into his face and the first thing he notices is that his left arms seems to have died off, it is sore and tingly and cold. He turns towards it to determine the cause of its demise and is surprised for a split second to see Blair there, nestled into him, cutting the circulation in his arm off with her head. He tries to move around minimally, to relieve the pressure without waking her up but a few seconds into the jostling her eyes open. She looks at him, her eyes swollen from last night, her lips cracked, he whispers "good morning" and leans in to kiss her forehead lightly. She lets him, then gets up without a word though, goes back into her room and he hears rumbling and then the unmistakable sound of shower water running. He also gets up and starts shaking his arm out trying to get feeling back in his fingers, then decides the numbness was preferable to the pins and needles that follow as the blood rushes back to his fingertips. He looks through his drawers to see if he hasn't by any chance forgotten some piece of underwear here in the summer and when he is unsuccessful in his search, decides he needs to drive back to the big shopping mall and get a sixpack of boxers and a another one of socks. Maybe a t shirt or two too, since his is crumpled, slept in and smells like Chanel nr 5 on its left side and sweat on his right. Pulling on his jeans he yells in the general direction of Blair's en-suite that he is leaving to get some stuff and that he will be right back, but there is no answer.

When he comes back she has made tea, surprisingly, since he was pretty sure she had no idea how to and she has even made a cup for him as well, that she wordlessly pushes towards him. He takes a two minute shower and in brand new cotton boxers under his jeans and a new no-name white t shirt with a somewhat plastic-y smell to it, joins her for breakfast. She either didn't plan on eating anything or found herself out of her depth in the kitchen, because there is nothing there other than tea, so he quickly makes some toast, remembering she yelled against waffles last night. She sits there in silence, drinks her tea and when he looks up and meets her gaze she quickly looks away. "Are you not going to talk to me at all, Blair?" he asks, suppressing the desire to make a joke about this being the worst morning after ever, since he didn't even get sex the night before. She rolls her eyes "What do you want me to say, Humphrey? Do you want to discuss the future, because right now, I don't even know what to do tomorrow, or next week or next month. Or the past? The ex I am not really over or the ex I am pregnant from? Or do you want us to discuss your book, where you lied about me, insulted my best friend and eliminated yours?"

He swallows hard "Ok, let's not talk at all. Let's just spend the entire weekend here by ourselves in silence then." She snorts, but doesn't sound amused at all "If only! You can't live for half a minute without hearing the sweet sound of your own voice, Humphrey. So spare me the whining. And give me some toast, I am supposed to eat for two and you are barely feeding me for half of one!" He rolls his eyes as he passes her the plate with already buttered toast on, but is a little bit relieved. Corrosive and insulting Blair he can handle and is definitely preferable to sad and silent Blair. She mutters something about him putting the existing national butter reserves at risk, while she scratches some of it off her toast but then eats and even, possibly, half smiles his way.

After breakfast and him washing up (she somehow used 2 pots and a kettle to make a couple of mugs of tea, how, is beyond him) while she reads a magazine from September three years ago ("ugh, so glad I was still in school back then, at least the uniform prevented us from ever considering high waisted shorts"), he decides that, seeing as she won't really talk to him and he is pretty sure she would never consider a board game, a walk is really their only option for some entertainment. She considers it, a tad longer than he finds necessary and just as he is about to tell her that she doesn't have to come, that he will go by himself, she sighs "well, if that is your idea of fun, let's go for a walk, Humphrey".

The weather is beautiful, low temperatures but the sun is shining, the sky is a piercing blue and the sea shines in dark blues and turquoise, sea gulls run up and down the beach, chasing each other and trying to get some tiny crabs out of the sand. They walk down the beach bare feet, her looking at the water and him looking at her. He feels like he is playing some strange game with himself, like find the 7 differences, between the Blair from three months ago at the end of the summer, the one that pretended to be happily in love and buzzing with wedding preparations and the one here with him today. Without shoes, and therefore heels, on she is kind of diminute and this pregnancy has made her, if possible, even thinner. Her arms and legs little sticks that don't fill out the trousers or thin sweater she is wearing, which makes the small roundness of her tummy more noticeable. He knew first about it, months ago, and yet he still cannot unite the thought of Blair and motherhood. It is not that she won't be a good mother, hell, even Georgina managed not to do a terrible job with Milo and he can't imagine a less nurturing person than Georgina, it is just that Blair, always so glamorous, always so… Blair, well, it doesn't seem to go well with a baby. He has seen what the end of pregnancy brings and how pointedly unglamorous child birth is, what with the dilating and crowning and blood and fluids and pushing until the little veins in your eyes pop. He cannot imagine her going through that, not that he has ever thought about her dilating or anything.

Halfway down the beach the cold starts to get to her and she crosses her arms across her front, trying to keep herself warm and he doesn't hesitate, takes off his sweater and gives it to her, leaving him in the thin t shirt and her looking comical, swallowed up in the big woolen orange monstrosity he found in one of the closets. She even allows herself to grin at him for a second when he points out that she looks like a pumpkin with legs. Spindly legs, that is. "I will look like a huge pumpkin soon enough." she says and her hand seems to go involuntarily to her belly. "Huge and disgusting." He shakes his head and softly says "You won't look disgusting… you couldn't if you tried." which only results in her pretending to stick her fingers down her throat. "Oh sorry Humphrey, your sweetness makes me nauseous." He laughs and grabs one end of a sleeve that is hanging inches below where her hand must be, turns around to face her and walks backwards, pulling her a little by the orange knitwear. "Well your mood swings give me whiplash… and yet you don't see me complaining." "But you are. Complaining that is. Or what was that?" she smiles and it lights up her entire face and she just looks radiantly beautiful to him, despite the hideous sweater and the tangled hair and the half scowl she gives him when she sees his face go into pine-mode. He just laughs, lets go of her sleeve and starts jogging a little, to try to stay warm. November in the Hamptons is a lot colder than he expected, having only ever spent summers here and they end up having to go inside because he can't stop shivering, much to her snarky delight ("shaking like a leaf is _so_ manly, Humphrey! How come you don't have girls hanging off you?").

The afternoon is quiet, she naps on the couch, while he reads and drinks hot chocolate, and then she reads and drinks green tea while he jots down a few ideas for a couple of stories (to which she says "what another novel? Do you still have friends left to estrange?"). His phone rings twice, once it is his father wondering where he is and if he heard about the prince of Monaco cancelling the wedding a mere 2 days before the event and they are going to lose the tickets and it is really inconsiderate of him and has he heard from Blair. Once it is Alessandra, but he doesn't take her call. Things are just too weird on that front, his last "meeting" with her still fresh in his mind. Blair's doesn't ever ring much to his surprise and when he accidentally knocks it off the kitchen counter while she is asleep he realizes why; she has turned it off. He makes dinner while she channel-surfs and after dinner they share the couch to watch The Secret People, which Blair has seen 5 times already and Dan fell asleep to once when he was 12. They start off perfectly parallel to each other, their feet propped on the coffee table, the way they watched movies a year ago but slowly Blair starts leaning on him and ends up with her head in his lap, on one of the cushions, her legs tucked along the couch, under a blanket she made Dan get from upstairs. He has to try hard not to fall asleep again, this movie is just not for him, despite Blair telling him, repeatedly, that this is Audrey's first big role, her roots so to speak and therefore incredibly important for the development of the world as we know it today. When the credits have rolled, she switches the TV off and they both stay in the darkness, neither of them willing to move, it is comfortable and warm and she hasn't insulted him in over 20 minutes so things are really great. He takes one of her curls between his fingers and plays around with it, smoothing it onto the cushion, then twirling it around his fingers, then smoothing it down again.

When she stretches a little, he taps her belly softly and asks "If it is a girl… will you call her Audrey?" He can practically feel her smile. "I don't know. I didn't think about it yet. There were other things going through my mind." He nods, even though she can't see him. "And I have this feeling that it is a boy. I can't explain it, just like a gut feeling. I can feel it move now, you know? It feels like I swallowed a butterfly. Fluttery and tiny. It started the day Louis left. At first I thought maybe it was guilt." She laughs once. "Great mother I will be, that thinks her baby's first movement is just a bad conscience." He lets go of her curl and cups the top of her head, leans down slightly. "Hey, you will be fine. Georgina thought labor was indigestion, she almost had Milo in the middle of the loft." He feels her giggle. "See, it could always be worse." Then, using the darkness the same way she did last night to talk about things that would be embarrassing to talk about in plain daylight, he asks: "Why did you ask _me_to bring you here? Why not Serena? She also has keys. You didn't want to talk to me for two months, why now?" She turns around, faces upwards, in his direction. "You said I would always have you, even if my fairy tale ended. And also… I told you, because of your book." He is confused, the first part makes sense, the second one… not so much. Is she thinking this is some sort of punishment for him, to atone for him writing a sex scene into his book? Or did she read it to the end after all? "What do you mean, because of my book?" She doesn't answer straight away, but she does take his hand, the one resting on her thigh and weaves her fingers through his. Then she lets go of his hand suddenly, as if she remembered something. "So?" he softly insists, leaning down further. He is so close he can feel her breath on his face now, smell the almost mute note of her perfume, hear her swallow. He voice is barely audible, nothing more than a faint whisper "I read the end, what you wrote about me, it was… really nice. Like you… like you maybe…" he leans down another little bit, his face so close to hers he can feel her eyelashes, longer than should be possible, touching his cheek, her lips so close and so present that he has to restrain himself not to find them with his.

His voice matches hers in the quiet whisper "Yes? Like?" She adjusts herself, her lips align with his and he feels them nearly brush them, the tension in both their bodies increases and he thinks that maybe she wants him to kiss her, to lean down that last quarter of an inch, to end her sentence for her. All the more unexpected it is when she pushes him back and says loudly "God, Humphrey, do I need to spell it all out to you? Frustrating is too kind a word for you!" and gets up, blanket in hand, disappearing up the stairs.

He is too confused as to how it all suddenly changed to even reply, he combs through his hair with his fingers (his hair is getting really long and kind of out of control, muppet she called him and that was a while ago, and maybe even kind of true) and goes upstairs too. He brushes his teeth, puts on last night's t shirt and hops into bed, shaking his head every now and then at the absurdity that was the end of this evening.

The door creaks and he hears her tiptoeing in, then climb into his bed, crawl across it until she is right next to him. This girl seriously has some issues, he thinks, yet can't even be angry, because he is just glad that she is there. "Sorry, Dan. Hormones." she whispers, but instead of leaving after her apology she slips under the covers, lies down at his side, her pajama clad legs snaking in between his naked ones, her head leaning into his shoulder. She puts on her sweetest baby-voice "My room is cold. And lonely." He lets out a fake sigh and puts his arm around her. "That's ok. You can sleep here, I am just..."

"Shh, Humphrey! I am trying to sleep here!" He smiles and moves around a little bit, to accommodate her more comfortably. At least tonight she is not crying herself to sleep. That is definitely some improvement. He closes his eyes and just before he dozes off, he feels her give him a soft kiss on the cheek and whisper "Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Saturday morning he wakes up late, despite the sun on his pillow tickling his face, and this time he is surprised to be alone in bed. The other side of the bed is made, so she must have made the bed with him still asleep inside of it. The thought of that makes him grin. He showers, puts on the other thin t shirt, also blessed with that lovely plastic smell, and that one pair of jeans he brought. It has dirty seams from the beach yesterday, but it is either that or spending the day in one of his, somewhat awkwardly large, new boxers. And they may have come to a sort of truce, a very bipolar one that comes and goes, but truce nonetheless, yet he is fairly certain that Blair would not be happy with him lounging around in ill-fitting underwear. This giant house is kind of eerie, he thinks as he walks past the many doors, why would anyone need a house this size? And then not even use it for 11 months a year. Though it did come handy this summer, when he needed to get away from the city, and of course now, when Blair needs it. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and looks around for her, but she isn't in the kitchen and she isn't in the adjoining living room sitting room area. He calls out her name but she doesn't answer, not that that means anything, half the times he has called out to her lately she has chosen not to acknowledge it. On the counter he finds a mug with some left over tea and the tell-tale pot and kettle still sitting on the stove. He fills the kettle and puts it back on to make some tea and cuts himself some bread for toast. It is untouched, so she didn't eat anything, before she disappeared. Next to her used mug he spots his phone and he reaches over to check it, only to see that she must have used it, browsed the web, becase the website she was looking at is still open on it. It is Gossip Girl.

"Can you hear the bells, Upper East Siders? Neither can I, the only sound I hear is that of tears falling. Royal tears, that is. From a certain prince charming, who is locked up in his castle after being dumped by B and her icy cold feet just days before the big event. Word has it, in true fairy tale fashion, he hasn't eaten or slept since and won't until he gets true love's kiss. He deserves it after getting faux love kissed for months. All raise their glasses and wish B a very happy non-wedding day. XOXO!"

For a moment he is stumped, it is not like Gossip Girl hasn't insulted them before, but that was really uncalled for, then he starts to get a little nervous. Blair, she looks and acts tough, but she breaks more easily than most and this must have felt like a fist in the face. He hopes she didn't do anything stupid. "Blair, Blair!" he yells repeatedly and rushes upstairs, opens her door, even peeks in her bathroom after knocking and receiving no answer, but nothing. He is getting more anxious than is probably necessary as he runs back down and checks in front of the house, the car is still there, so she didn't drive off, so the last place he has left, shy of searching the unused bedrooms and bathrooms and the attic, is the beach out the back. He runs out, adrenaline pumping, imagining her floating face down in the sea. But there she is, sitting on the sand, wrapped in the knitted blanket he gave her yesterday to watch TV, looking out at the sea, being a perfect cliché of sadness and despair. He thinks about joining her, then decides against it, having to fight hard his "saving damsel in distress" urges; she might just needs to be alone and he has to try to respect that. At least for a little while.

After having breakfast and washing up, looking through his phone's messages (one from his father, one from Serena, four from Alessandra, sigh) twice, rearranging the magazines on the coffee table and generally procrastinating as much as he can, trying to keep himself from going to that beach, he gives up, puts on the giant orange sweater and slowly walks towards her. She is still huddled in the same spot. He sits down next to her, wordless because, honestly, he doesn't know what to say and puts a hand on her back. She doesn't move, doesn't look at him and doesn't say anything, but she also doesn't shake his hand off. The sea is calm, small waves topped with fluffy foam hitting the beach rhythmically, a seagull diving in for some fish every now and then. In the movies or on TV there would be a storm brewing and it would be raining to mirror her sadness, he thinks, but here it is just perfectly beautiful out. It isn't even too cold, or maybe he is not as aware of it today as he is wearing his sweater and not her.

"I would be walking down the aisle right now." She breaks the silence, looking at the small wrist-watch in her hand, then stuffs it back into her jeans pockets. "Everybody would be on their feet, the whole church. It is the church Louis' parents got married in, the biggest one in Monaco. My mother and Serena would be crying in the first row of pews." He clears his throat and grins at her "So would several men in New York." She smiles back at him, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes, then turns back to face the sea. "The caterers would be stressed to set up, biggest wedding of the year and all. Huge responsibility. The TV crews would be filming, as I walk down past everybody I know and about a thousand people I don't. The wedding march is played by a chamber orchestra, the finest musicians of the country. Lots of flowers everywhere and the afternoon sun would shine through the colored glass to make the inside of the church glow in amber and gold." He leans forward to look into her face. "And it would be beautiful Blair, absolutely beautiful, except that the bride would be thinking of ways to flee the church." She doesn't even look at him at all while he speaks and if possible looks even more pointedly away as she replies "Just before reaching the altar, there is a little walkway on the left that leads to the priest's prep room. It has a door to the outside and that side of the church is only a few yards away from the parking lot, where the drivers wait in the cars." He laughs out loud. "You actually _planned_ to run away?" She shakes her head. "It wasn't a real plan, just… an emergency strategy. In case."

He leans back and props himself up on his elbows. "I wasn't going to go to your wedding, you know." This does get her full attention and she turns to him "What do you mean, you weren't coming? You RSVPed. It is really rude to RSVP and then not to make an appearance. Humphrey, I know you are a proletarian and probably raised by a pack of wolves… or people from Brooklyn, but you could have picked up some of these basic social conducts at St Jude's. What did they send you to private school for?" He grins at her ranting. "Well, I decided not to go, seeing as you were not speaking to me and… it would have been kind of difficult for me." She looks at him questioning and he adds "Well, you read my novel and you are smart, Waldorf, I don't think I need to spell it out to you, do I?"

She sits up straight again and looks back at the sea. After a minute of silence she asks "Hey, do you think Gossip Girl is right? That Louis has been crying and not eating?" He is frustrated by her ignoring his last remark and considers playing dumb, pretending not to know what she is talking about, then gives in. "I think he is sad, yes. He loved you. He still does, I imagine." He sees her eyes darkening as the confirmation leads another round of guilt. "But you know what, Waldorf. He will find someone else. Someone better suited for him than you. Someone who is sweet and docile and… someone who doesn't mind that he always looks kind of like he has a stick up his ass!" Blair breaks into laughter involuntarily and relaxes visibly. "So… are you saying I am not sweet and docile?" He looks at her incredulous, one eyebrow raised. "Honestly, Waldorf? If someone asked me to find an adjective that meant diametrically opposed to Blair Waldorf, the answer would be docile. The second choice would probably be sweet." She hits him on the arms. "Well the opposite of Dan Humphrey is interesting. Second choice is smart. Third choice is well groomed." she reaches out and pulls one of his curls with two fingers until it is stretched out completely, then lets go and watches it hop back into its original shape, her nose crinkled in disgust "I swear, Humphrey, if you were hoping to break some sort of Guinness record for ugliest hair ever, you have achieved it. Can you get a proper hair cut now?" He turns sideways to be propped up by only one of his arms, facing her completely and combs his locks with his free hand. "I like it long." She shakes her head "You like that it bugs me when it is long, that is something entirely different." "Not everything revolves around you Blair, you know. Not everything everybody does is because it triggers a reaction from you." She grins at him, both eyebrows raised. "No, not everything everybody does is. Just everything _you_ do." He lets himself fall backwards with a exaggerated sigh, something he regrets almost immediately as his head hits the ground and he can feel his hair getting all sandy. "You are one self absorbed-" "bon mot tossing, label-whoring 95 pounds of girlie evil?" she concludes. He can't help but laugh and he grabs the neck of her sweater and pulls her back into the sand too and then there they are both lying on the beach, laughing and making sand angels.

They make a picnic (well, he makes a picnic while she barks orders) and eat it on the beach, seeing as their hair and clothes are sandy all over anyway. Then, after they shower and remove sand from every which place on their bodies, they repeat the same routine from the day before, she naps while he reads, she reads while he writes. He gets quite lost in thought as he writes, for the first time in weeks, months even, proper paragraphs that are not a list of notes and ideas that lead nowhere and amount to nothing. When he snaps out of it for a moment and looks up he sees her observing him. She half smiles from her position on the couch and then asks softly "If you could do it all over… would you publish your book again?" He thinks for a moment. "I don't know, it upset many people, especially my dad. And I wouldn't want to hurt him. Or Nate. Or Serena. But it does feel… special, to be a published author, to know people read it and like it. To be mentioned in articles, to be positively reviewed, to get fan mail. So, I don't know if I would let it get published… not that I had a choice. But if I did, I think probably not. Because in the end, it is more important not to hurt people you love than to get personal gain." She looks pensive and nods, then buries her nose back in her old magazine. From behind the magazine he hears "They will get over it, Dan. Just give them some time."

That evening they go out for a walk after dinner; he suggests it because he is afraid that switching on the TV will mean that they catch some news from Monaco, about how much money was spent on that failed wedding or something along those lines, and he doesn't want her to see that. They wear shoes this time though, and coats and scarves. And she wears her beret, which he thinks is ridiculous because it doesn't keep her ears warm like a proper hat and is basically just a decoration for her head and chances are they won't even encounter anybody to appreciate her decorated head. They haven't seen a single soul on that beach since they arrived after all. They walk for a little while in silence and then he points out the big dipper. Then Orion's belt and he is just about to tell her the story of Orion and the importance of his shape on the night sky when she interrupts him to let him know that she would rather listen to an audio-book on the mating rituals of earthworms than his overlong parliaments on really uninteresting constellations, so he shuts up and goes back to walking in silence. In shoes they are a lot slower than they were bare feet yesterday, but the star filled sky is lovely (in New York you sometimes forget that stars exist) and the gentle swooshing noise of the sea is kind of hypnotizing.

"I thought today would be terrible, horrible, painful" she says finally. "But it wasn't. And it wasn't any of those things thanks to you." She seems to be unable to look at him as she gives him the compliment and so he reaches out and grabs her hand, squeezes it to let her know that he appreciates her appreciating him. When he is going to pull his hand back he notices that she is holding on to it and so he takes a small step towards her and weaves his fingers through hers; they continue walking slowly, hand in hand. "My weekend was pretty good too, despite initial doubts" he concedes and then adds, quietly "I also thought today would be terrible and painful. But then you called me."

She finally looks at him, her face pale in the moonlight, her eyes huge. "We should stop dancing around it, Humphrey. Enough with the half assed pointers and stupid references." "Not to forget changing the subject abruptly whenever _it_ comes up." he adds. She nods and swallows. "I read the end of the book and we both know you are not a good enough writer to be too subtle, so I didn't exactly need the Cliff's notes to understand…" her voice softens considerably "how you feel about me. It is why I called _you_ to bring me here, because… I… don't know how I feel about you." He has stopped walking and stands there, staring at her. "You annoy me, but you are also… nice. And with a decent haircut you would not be horrible to look at, and your taste in movies is actually… " he interrupts her, putting the hand that is not holding hers on her shoulder and telling her "Please, Blair. Stop. Be honest." She takes a little step closer to him and then whispers, barely audible, a confession: "Yesterday on the couch, I wanted you to kiss me so badly." His eyes grow bigger, so he hadn't been wrong. He looks at her eyes, then at her lips, wets his quickly, without meaning to, and looks back at her eyes. "And right now" she whispers even more quietly "I want you-" he leans in, puts his lips on hers. First shy, carefully, one hand on her back, one hand cupping her face, bringing her closer, grazing her cheek with his thumb, kind of expecting her to freak out any minute and for the insults to start raining. But then she kisses him back, standing on her tippy-toes, her arms around his neck, both hands buried in the too long curls she so dislikes and he just holds on tight and lets her lead.

When they both come up for air he has a huge smile on his face and yet she looks horrified. She shakes her head and starts walking back to the house, treading with difficulty on the sand, working hard to move forwards as fast as she can. "What is it, Blair?" he doesn't understand. This girl honestly is like being on some perverse rollercoaster ride, one minute up, the next plummeting to the floor at 150 miles per hour. She doesn't speak until they are back at the house, then turns to him, her eyes wet, but no tears spilling over.

"We can't do this, Dan. It would kill Serena. And you said yourself, it is more important not to hurt the people you love than to get personal gain." And with that she stomps back into the house, up the stairs and into her room, leaving a thin sandy trail. He sits in the dark living room for a while, thinking about this weekend, about tonight, about what Blair said. She is right of course, he knows that, hell, he has seen Dawson's Creek reruns on cable… this kind of triangle (two best friends, one common boyfriend) never ends well. He sighs, and goes up to his bedroom, gets ready for bed, slips under the covers, then changes his mind. He walks into Blair's room and whispers "You asked me if I would publish my novel again, given the chance. You didn't ask if I would write it again. For the record, I would. And given tonight's events, I would give it to you, and only you, to read." Then he goes back into his room and disappears under the sheets.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: This chapter has a lot of pregnancy stuff in it. I wish there was no baby, but I don't want Blair to miscarry this late and suffer either, so I thought they needed to discuss certain things._

_Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews, I appreciate them so much!_

Chapter 4

The smell is penetrating enough to get all the way into the bathroom, he can even smell it in the shower. Alarmed he wraps himself in a towel and rushes downstairs, water dripping off him, wondering how she has managed to set the house on fire. The kitchen is full of smoke and there in the midst of the smoke she stands, looking fairly lost. "What on earth?" he asks and she just wordlessly lifts up what looks like a piece of coal, but he realizes after a closer inspection is just a piece of charred toast. "Waldorf, what did you do? Did you just set the bread on fire?" he asks laughing and pulling his towel tighter around his waist, then sees her eyes full of tears. She lets out a little sob and the tears spill over and, still unable to control his face enough not to be smiling, he walks over and puts an arm around her. She turns towards him, hides her face in her hands, without letting go of the piece of bread and leans into him, sobbing loudly into his naked chest. He puts his arms around her and tries to sound serious as he tries to calm her down. "Shush, it's ok, it doesn't matter, we will make something else for breakfast. Nothing a few open windows and some air freshener won't cure." She lets out another hearty, loud sob and standing there completely soaked and mostly naked in a kitchen full of smoke, with her leaning into him, crying into a piece of completely blackened toast he can't contain himself any longer and starts to laugh again. He tries to hide it by kissing the top of her head, but he shakes with quiet bouts of laughter. "Oh, come on, Blair. It is not the end of the world. I'll teach you to make- OW! Don't pinch me!" He rubs the spot where she hurt him, just above his nipple and she looks up, her face a mess, mascara forming little rivers on their way down (why is she wearing mascara at 9 am on a Sunday?), black crumbs sticking to her cheeks and chin, and an involuntary smile playing around the corners of her mouth. He reaches up and clears the crumbs off one of her cheek and whispers "Never a good idea to sob into a piece of charcoal." and then winces when she hits him with said piece of charcoal on the shoulder. "Hey Blair, be nice!" She holds up the piece of toast, or rather what is left of it, as her evidence and replies "I _was_ trying to be nice to you and look how that worked out! I will be strictly annoyed by you, that never causes this much trouble." He rolls his eyes and fake sighs, then grabs and tightens his towel, which was increasingly becoming lose, and points to the stairs. "If I go up to dry myself and get dressed… can I trust you not to touch anything in the kitchen for 2 minutes?" She nods, biting her lips, and looking like innocence itself but then as he reaches the stairs he gets hit by the toast square in the back of the head.

Over the (newly made) breakfast toast he asks her finally what her plans are, wisely ignoring anything that happened yesterday. Does she want to stay here longer, because he really needs to go back to the city, he has to go to class and he has a couple of meetings regarding the book, that he cannot ignore. She shrugs a lot, then says that she won't stay in Amagansett alone and he thinks that is good thing since she would starve to death within a couple of days, but he doesn't tell her that. She also has to set up a Dr's appointment, she had one in Monaco, but obviously won't be there for it, apparently 5 months into pregnancy there is some sort of big ultrasound where they check the organs and it is very important, according to the book she read. But other than that, there really isn't much for her to do in New York, or even anyone to keep her company, Serena will be busy with her new job (5 whole months and she has not yet quit or been fired, a record of sorts), her parents won't be there, Nate… well she hasn't really had a conversation with Nate in years and Chuck is better left ignored.

"Did you fully quit college then?" he asks, wondering. She shakes her head "I took a semester off, in case I wanted to come back next year." "Could you go to classes?" She shrugs "I won't go back to college Humphrey. Not if I will have to quit in 3 months anyway" she points at her belly "it makes no sense. Alone with a baby, I won't manage to get a degree." He rolls his eyes. "Blair, without stepping on your toes or anything, but are you honestly telling me you won't hire a nanny?" "Of course I will, Humphrey, what kind of stupid question is that. But I will still have lots of things to do. I am not some crazy hippy, who can go to school and breastfeed in the back of the class. Or wear the kid in an old tie-dye rag attached to my back. I am not you!" He refrains from asking when she has ever seen him breastfeeding anybody in the back of a class but instead decides to speak his mind "You can't give up your dreams though, you will resent the baby and you… you won't be happy. What is the point of that, Blair?" She shakes her head. "Happiness is overrated." "Bullshit!" She exasperates him. "That is utter bullshit Blair, if you want to do it, if you want to make it work, you will. I will help you. And Serena will too, I am sure. Hell, even Nate would be able to push a stroller for a couple of hours without causing major damages, while you are in class or studying. Or… " he hesitates to even put it out there. "Or what Humphrey, I cannot read your mind, simple as it may be." "Don't get angry, ok? I just wondered if you considered giving it up for adoption." She rolls her eyes violently and scoff some kind of half insult at him, then turns away. He is not going to give up though, this is the first serious conversation they had about the topic and it is important, so he continues to speak at her turned back. "Hey I didn't want to upset you, alright? I just wondered if you had really thought about all your options… early on you said you wanted to have it and now it is kind of late to… not have it. But then you were in a different position than you are now… I am not suggesting you do it, I just wondered if you _thought_ about it." She turns back, teary eyed again (he has made her cry twice and it isn't 11 am yet, that must be some kind of record). "Yes Dan, I have thought about it. But I don't think I can." And with that the conversation is over as she leaves the table and he starts tidying up.

They decide to leave in the late afternoon, have lunch here and maybe a last walk on the beach, it is another gorgeous day out; neither of them is particularly eager to get back home. They settle on the couch to read before he makes their last meal, she sits lengthwise, her legs crossing at the ankle, resting on his thighs. She seems to be fully immersed in her book and he watches her above the rim of his. Her words (and actions) yesterday going around and around in his head, she has feelings for him, she may not be able to give them a name yet, but yeah, that kiss… that was not devoid of feelings. This situation is a mess no matter which way you look at it, though. He would be hesitant to allow himself to have any kind of feelings for Blair in any case, because she is not the kind of girl he could ever see himself with. She is a schemer, she can be terribly mean, she was horrible to his own sister, and she didn't even seem to like him or tolerate him really. Plus Serena, he doesn't want to go out with Serena again, his feelings for her so changed over time, but he understand that this will cause a problem in her relationship with Blair, frail as it is already. And in her friendship with him. She got mad when they said they were friends, she got furious when she heard they had kissed and she was ready to jump at Blair's throat when she read about the fictitious sex. And the baby. If a normal woman gets high maintenance during pregnancy, Blair with child is like a preg-zilla, not exactly something to look forward to. And worst of all, once she is done with being pregnant she will have an actual child, and he knows from experience that children are not exactly easy or fun. So he definitely should not allow feelings for her right now. But there they are, present and not following his orders to disappear… she crept up on him somehow and now there is no way back. He will just have to suppress them, the way he has for the past few months, he concludes his brainstorm. But it is harder to suppress them now, that he knows they are not unrequited. Without looking up from her book or changing her position whatsoever, she deadpans "I know you are watching me, Humphrey. Stop it, it is creepy. And yesterday never happened."

After lunch they set off for that walk, bickering back and forth, then discussing Nate and his decreasing taste in women (Blair points out that is has been a steady downwards spiral and since she was his first girlfriend, she was clearly the best of the list), Serena's job (he wonders if she is going to be happy as a glorified secretary for too long) and Rufus' annoyance with the characterization in Dan's novel (Blair doesn't understand it, he _is_ a trophy husband and Dan didn't lie there, why would he get upset). They do not talk about themselves, or about anything relating to feelings. About half an hour into the walk Dan spots something blue and familiar lying on the beach and when he goes to pick it up, realizes it is Blair's beret. She dusts it off with her hand and admits that she hadn't even realized she had lost it last night, neither of them says out loud what they are thinking. She carries it back to the house, then throws it away. It was too dirty, it was ruined anyway and he wondered if it was too full of memories, she didn't want to have.

The drive back is slow, with more cars on the highway than either of them thought possible. In Amagansett it is easy to forget that there are other human beings on the face of the earth. She sleeps for an hour and he listens to the radio, there is a debate on public health care that he finds really fascinating, but she finds so tedious that when she wakes up he has to turn it off, because he can't really hear the debate with her constant complaining in the foreground. The sunset is beautiful, the sky a lovely grading from soft blues to that unmistakable, and inimitable, blend of orange and pink that feels to their eyes like velvet does to the fingers. He feels really happy suddenly, driving slowly, this wonderful sunset and Blair right there next to him, even her unable to say anything mean to him whilst admiring the colors in the sky. Once the colors have faded, everything looks duller, infused with a shade of grey.

"Dan…" he likes that he knows she will say something honest and not insulting by the simple fact that she uses his first name. "Were you serious when you said you would help me? With the baby?" He nods. "Of course. What friend wouldn't. And I told you, I am here for you." She doesn't say anything but takes his right hand and sets it on her belly and he feels it. It doesn't feel like a kick at all, more like a soft poke, barely even there. He second guesses if he felt something at all a spit-second after it happens, but then it happens again. A smile spreads on his face and she speaks softly, barely more than a whisper "If you are really serious… I do want to go back to college. You are right, I don't want to be a drop-out, I don't want to be just a mom." He takes his hand off her belly and rests it on her knee, she puts hers on top of his. His voice mirrors hers in softness and volume "You will never be just a mom. You are Blair Waldorf after all." Her fingers weave between his and they drive on in silence, linked.

When they get to the city it is dark, the city night sky that strange yellow grey that it always is from the millions of lights, no star visible even though there are no clouds either, the moon dwarfed by the buildings. He drives to her building, parks in front of it, but she doesn't get out. "Waldorf, you like the car so much now that you can't face leaving it?" she doesn't retort, keeps looking out of her window and he grabs her chin and turns her to face him. "Hey! What is it?" She shrugs, shakes her head. "There will be nobody in there. Dorota is off on Sundays. Serena is never home, she sleeps at her current boy-toy's place like 6 nights a week." He understands and without another word starts driving again, towards Brooklyn, stopping once on the way to pick up a couple of pizzas (Gourmet for her, Meat delight for him). He changes the sheets on his bed for her, while she inspects Cedric ("Humphrey, he looks mangy, don't you take care of anything?") and they eat while watching an old Charlie Chaplin movie that makes them giggle like school girls out of nowhere when they least expect it. Once it is finished they switch the TV off, both too full and sleepy. He closes his eyes and is about to drift off when he hears "Hey, Dan. Thank you. For everything. Honestly." He nods with his eyes still closed "That's alright, Blair. That's alright. Next time you leave a guy at the altar and need a week away, though… warn me beforehand, because I am very behind on my schedule and need to write two papers for Wednesday now." She slaps him softly. "You are an idiot Humphrey." He laughs. "I probably am, Waldorf. I probably am." "But a really sweet idiot." Her voice is so soft he isn't sure he heard it or he dreamed it."Possibly the nicest idiot out there", this time he is sure that he heard it and then her lips are on his, one hand under his t shirt, the other in his hair. He is so surprised he opens his eyes for a moment to see hers decidedly closed, then closes them again.

After a while like this on the sofa, and despite all his cells screaming "don't do it", he stops her and asks her if this is really what she wants. She rolls her eyes and murmurs "mood-killer", but then agrees that they should sleep on it. She walks to his bedroom and he lies down on the sofa, waiting for her to close the door to take off his jeans. "Are you coming or what?" she yells from the door to his room and, surprised, he joins her in his bed. He lies on his side, behind her, wraps himself around her and closes his eyes. In the quiet darkness of his room he whispers into her hair "Blair, tomorrow morning no matter what time you wake up, even if you want to be nice to me, please don't attempt to make toast."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thank you once more for all the reviews. You guys make this so much fun.

Chapter 5:

And send. There they go, both essays. Not his best work, especially one of them, but considering he had just over two days to write them and his mind was everywhere but in advanced English lit and political science, even the fact that he finished them is a bit of a miracle. He gets up, puts the four dirty mugs in the sink (one coffee, refilled several times, one green tea, still half full, one juice, one regular tea with milk), takes a very overdue shower despite the fact that it is already 3.30 pm and then stares at his phone. Alessandra has called twice today and many, many times yesterday, she doesn't want to talk business and he wants her to understand that whatever they had is over, without having to go over there, face her and tell her. Blair on the other hand he has not heard from or seen since Sunday evening. Monday morning when he woke up she had disappeared and he gave her some space and he had so much to do anyhow, so he told himself he would not call her until his essays were written, that she would call if she wanted to see him or talk to him. Now the essays are written and he is sitting here like some sort of teenager staring at his phone, willing it to ring and not be Alessandra for once. But it doesn't.

Eventually he gives in and calls. It rings then goes to voicemail, he considers hanging up but then starts talking: "Erm… hi Blair, it is me. I was just wondering how you erm… are and if you wanted to talk or watch a movie. Or go to a museum! Or something. Ok, anyway, you must be busy, so just call me when you are free. Or send me a text. Or… yeah, so… yeah. Oh, I am Dan… Humphrey." He hangs up and feels like an idiot. That was possibly the worst voicemail ever, even for his standards, even considering that wave he gave Serena on their first date, this was pretty bad. He curses himself and runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. She runs off the morning they are supposed to talk about a certain kissing situation and that is the first thing he says to her? She won't call back after that. And then his phone rings.

"Pathetic voicemail if there ever was one, Humphrey!" He grins. "How are you?" "Fine, if borderline suicidal from boredom." "Oh, Waldorf, dramatic much?" "I am just saying, I now understand Virginia Woolf a lot better. She probably stayed in that house in Sussex by herself for a few weeks and then just couldn't stop herself from filling her coat-pockets with rocks and wading into-" "Ok, Waldorf, enough, I get it, you need entertainment, what do you want to do? Movie, museum, walk?" He looks out of the window and looks at the greyish sky, it doesn't look like rain is imminent, but it doesn't look like rain is days away either. He can practically hear her shrug "I don't know… maybe MOMA? They have a festival on film preservation these days." "Sure, want to meet there in half an hour?" he is already grabbing his keys when she replies that she will see him there. He arrives at their usual meet up point before her, even though he lives a hundred blocks away and her place is only about 5 blocks from the museum, and he considers grabbing a cup of coffee beforehand, his 6th today. After a few minutes of thinking and watching the girl who sells monkey and lion shaped hats to tourists he decides to do it, if only to give himself something to do, other than stand around, bored and cold. While he waits for it, his phone beeps. "You are late! I will wait inside. B" He rolls his eyes, grabs his cup and then goes over to the entrance, where he is reminded that he cannot bring his drink in and he has to drain the 16 fluid ounces of way too hot drink in two minutes. With his mouth on fire and what can only be third degree burns in his throat he finally goes in and taps her on the shoulder. "I waited for like 10 minutes, _you _ were late!" "Ugh, Humphrey, I arrived and you were nowhere to be seen, what does that tell you? Also your coffee breath makes me nauseous, you bring back my morning sickness. Go and find someone to give you a tictac or something."

Too embarrassed to ask someone he doesn't know for a "tictac or something" he buys a box of mints from the souvenir-store (in a little box with Monet on it, for way more than a little box of mints should cost) and then they make their way to the movie, only to find out that it started at 4 and it is now quarter to five. He suggests a walk in the park instead and she grumbles that it is fine with her. The park is fairly empty, a few tourists here and there, the random runner in tight stretchy trousers, a few old people with their dogs. The sky is getting darker with nightfall, making the rain clouds look ominous. She puts her arm through his and linked this way they walk towards the lake. After a few minutes of silence, she tells him that Serena only came home briefly yesterday and didn't even have time for a real talk because she had to go off to a meeting, even though that was the first time she saw her since Blair ran away from her own wedding. She says it casually, like "look what a ditzy and busy friend I have" but he can hear the pain in her voice, how saddened she is by Serena's lack of interest and support. He pats her arm ("stop it Humphrey, we are not 85 and I am not your ailing wife") and tells her that Lily and Rufus are having the best time travelling in Europe and that is kind of thanks to her. They start circumventing the lake when it starts raining and they run for cover into the little roofed look-out point and watch the big drops fall into the lake.

"Blair about last Sun-" he is interrupted by his phone ringing, takes it out and sees it is, once again, Alessandra calling. Blair looks at the display and lifts her eyebrows, while he presses ignore. "Who is that, Humphrey?" her voice is colder than he expects. "Someone from the editorial, business." he answers not quite honestly and she grunts "Don't lie. I know she has been calling all weekend… that is not just work." He sucks his cheeks in and nods. "No she is not just work… but I wish she was." "Why?" she asks, fishing, and he grins "Well, see Blair, there is this other girl I like but she seems to be playing me hot and cold." Even in the dark he can see her blush a little. "Maybe, Humphrey, she is not sure if your roguish occasional charm can make up for your lack in manners and taste. And good looks." He laughs and gives her a fake punch on the shoulder. "Ow, what are you now, from the hood? I am not your bro, Humphrey. I am a lady!" she responds immediately and whacks him with her handbag in the stomach. Hard. He rubs his ribs and by the time it has stopped hurting (what does she keep in that bag? Rocks?) she has taken out her phone and is reading Gossip Girl. "Chuck walked his dog. Honestly Gossip Girl seems to have run out of juice lately" she says and shows him the picture. "I have never seen an uglier dog in my life." "Hey! I bought him that dog, he was feeling… unwell and I thought the dog would cheer him up." He looks up and sees that she is looking at him, half-smiling, kindness in her eyes and something else that he doesn't quite recognize, and he just wants to take her face in his hands and kiss her. Before he can make a decision whether to do it or not, she clears her throat and says "It stopped raining. Let's go!"

He walks her home, hoping that maybe now they will finally get to talk about last Sunday, but she only talks about how she made that ultrasound appointment for next week and they talk about the upcoming thanksgiving meal, neither of them knows who to celebrate with. In front of her building, he leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek and to leave but she takes a step back and tells him, that it is really his duty to come up and keep her company during dinner, as Serena is once again not coming home and Dorota will have left for the evening by now. Her eyes cloud over when she mentions Serena and he makes a mental note to call Serena and tell her to spend some time with Blair. "Ok, I will come up and provide entertainment for the lady." he tells her. Dorota has left a delicious chicken and vegetable dish, big enough for both of them, and after dinner he cuts some fruit up to make a fruit salad, while she goes upstairs to "get something that will provide the entertainment". When she comes back down she is smiling gleefully, carrying a pair of scissors, several combs and hair brushes and two towels. He knows immediately what her plan is, starts protesting but she pouts and he rolls his eyes and decides to let her do it. He could do with a haircut anyway. They eat the fruit salad in silence, her, smiling in anticipation and him running his hands repeatedly through his curls, trying to soak up the way they feel one last time. At least hair will grow back he thinks, and she looks so happy, he knows he will regret this, but right now he just wants to see her smile like that for as long as possible. She makes him wash his hair in the downstairs-bathroom sink and then sits him down on a sitting room chair in the kitchen, combs his hair out until it is straight and grabs the scissors. "Have you ever done this before, Waldorf?" he asks, trying not to sound like he is having an inner pity party, though he actually is. "Shush Humphrey, don't distract me while I work, you don't want my scissors to slip, do you? And of course I have done this before. Plenty of times. On, like, all of my Barbie-dolls." He closes his eyes and listens to the snipping sound.

The boy looking back at him from the mirror has the worst haircut of all times. It is very uneven, his left side an inch longer than his right, the back longer than the front in mullet-like fashion and a strange zigzag on the top, with long bits and shorter bits curling every which way. He bites his lower lip and chants inwardly "It will grow back, it will grow back". She is standing in the door watching him watch himself and when he says, shakier than he hoped it would sound "I have a freaking meeting tomorrow at ten, Waldorf!" she gives a tiny smile and concedes "_Maybe_ I am not good at cutting people's hair. Barbie was much easier, maybe because she didn't have curls." He takes one last look and then shakes his head in defeat, no matter how often he looks at it, it won't get better and she is suddenly there next to him. "Ok, Humphrey, it is a bit of a mess. Just go to the hairdresser tomorrow morning at 8, you will look fine for 10 o' clock. And the long hair was worse than this." She reaches up and grabs a handful of hair on his (longer) left side. "I think you look much better with short hair. Almost handsome." He turns to face her, suddenly closer than he expected. "Almost, huh?" She looks at his lips, then into his eyes, gives a tiny nod "U-huh. Almost." He lifts his hand to her face, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and softly strokes her cheek. "You look beautiful." he whispers and she looks surprised, but pleased. "Almost beautiful?" she whispers back and he shakes his head. "Definitely beautiful." He hesitates to lean down and then she, like the first time they kissed, grabs his collar and murmuring "oh for crying out loud, Humphrey, again?" pulls him close, his lips onto hers.

They move upstairs to her bed, a place he was only recently allowed to sit on and once again, against his better judgment, he interrupts the kissing. "We were going to talk about… well, about… you know, Sunday, this… but you left." She sighs. "Less talking and more kissing Humphrey, you are much better at it." He shakes his head. "No Blair, I don't want to… do anything you are not sure you want to do." She looks at him like he is a developmentally challenged 4 year old. "Does this look like something I don't want to do?" He shakes his head again "You know what I mean, you are confused and, there are reasons… Serena… at least let's talk about it!" She suddenly looks somber. "You are right. There are reasons. Serena. But I don't want to talk about it. I don't know what _this_ is, ok, Dan? Maybe it is just a fling? Maybe we just need to get it out of our systems? Because I don't plan in advance to kiss you, it just happens. Maybe it will stop happening. And if not… we will talk about it, if it doesn't, ok?" He is not really ok with it, but he is conflicted. He wants to be there for her, and he certainly doesn't mind the kissing. But he is afraid she will regret it. And he is afraid he will get hurt. So he kisses her forehead and says "I am afraid it doesn't work this way, Blair." then stands up to leave. She looks angry and grumbles "I lied Humphrey, your hair looks awful. Worse than Chuck's dog!" to which he gives a small smile, sits back down and kisses her cheek, "Almost handsome" he whispers at her and runs his hand through his shaggy uneven locks. She slips into bed, under her comforter and looks sullenly at him, as he puts his shoes and his sweater back on.

He starts to leave, then at the door grabs her coat, that is hanging there, on a coat hanger, and puts his hands into the pockets. "Humphrey? What on earth are you doing?" she calls out from the bed.

"Just making sure they aren't filled with rocks, Virginia. I will call you tomorrow. Have a good night." and with that he quietly disappears.


End file.
